Crush
by Gater101
Summary: OneShot He wanted to turn and run away but some kind of masochistic pleasure kept him rooted to the spot. Season4


Title: Crush  
Summary: He wanted to turn and run away but some kind of masochistic pleasure kept him rooted to the spot.  
Characters: John, Teyla, Ronon  
Pairing: John/Teyla, John/Nancy, Teyla/Kanan.  
Rating: K  
Spoilers: Missing, Seer

John felt something in his gut drop from his body and pool around his feet somewhere; his chest ached as though something was crushing him to death; his fingers clenched into a fist; his jaw dropped onto the goop that had spilled from his feet and his eyes bugged out of his head. He tried to breathe but his lungs would not obey. He could feel Ronon and Rodney's and Sam's and everyone on the base's eyes on him and he wanted to turn and run away but some kind of masochistic pleasure kept him rooted to the spot.

Time seemed to have actually stopped, everything moving in slow motion around him – he supposed that could be resultant of lack of oxygen in his brain – and he was forced to watch the scene unfold in gruesome, lethargic slowness. The sounds seemed muffled somehow as though the air was catching them and swirling them around before filtering them into John's cotton-wooled ears; colours blended together in a sick swirl and he felt dizzy; he could feel the blood slowly pounding around his body, his heart slowing down before stopping completely.

He felt like he was dying.

Air cracked through the block in his lungs and he stumbled forward, grabbing onto the railing, sounds assaulting him in a ludicrously loud cacophany, images assaulted him, his blood pounded through his body, carrying the adrenaline to his limbs and he closed his eyes. He felt sick. His stomach retched dryly, turning over and over in his body. He opened his eyes and saw her.

Saw her with him.

He fled. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him through the tunnel leading away from the control room, down corridors, past people rushing to the gate room and he didn't stop until he felt the cool draft breeze through his hair. He leaned over the railing, gripping the metal rod with intensity that turned his knuckles white and sucked in the clean, fresh air, feeding his lungs oxygen in abundance. He was gasping, literally and he wondered if it was possible to pass out from too much oxygen.

Of course it bloody well was, it's called _hyper-ventilating _he mocked himself and before he knew it, his fist had connected with the metal pillar beside him. He groaned, loudly, in pain but didn't look down to see the blood pooling from his knuckles. A choked sob escaped his throat and he lashed out at the wall again, cursing his body for betraying him.

_They'd been doing __so__ well._

He covered his face with his hands and dug the tips of his fingers into his eyes, wishing to gouge them out as he saw the two of them together blazoned across his eyelids. It had even been a month ago that he and Teyla had shared Christmas together, that he'd shared another part of himself with her and now... now it was all up in smoke. His resolution to not tell her how he felt had seemed like such a good idea at the time, when he had so much to hide behind but now... now he wished beyond all reasonable doubt that he'd told her and that somehow, some way _he _hadn't made it back.

He kicked out at the thought, cursing himself for wishing that upon one of her people. Her people... They'd just returned through the 'gate with Major Moore's team, all of them, each and every last one of them including Kanan... his body convulsed at the thought of his name, not a memory to be had amongst them.

And just in time for Teyla giving birth. He hitched another breath at that. She was due in tomorrow to be induced, having been overdue for almost two weeks. It was supposed tobe John who was next to her... Not now.

He swivelled when he heard the door's behind him swish open and he was glad for the darkness. He could see Ronon's dark figure just inside the doorway, his head moving from side to side, obviously looking for the Colonel. He shrunk back into the shadow's hoping that Ronon would simply move on. He did and John sighed a breath of relief and slumped down against the balcony.

He could hear the hustle and bustle of the returning Athosians, could hear the rest of the expedition moving towards the gate room just to make sure that the Athosians were actually back and that it wasn't just a rumour.

He wished he could share in their enthusiasm, knew that he should be back in there demanding answers – that it was his _job _–, that he should be beside Teyla, giving her friendly moral support. But that it felt like someone had taken out his heart and used it as a baseball, made him pretty sure that _there _was somewhere he definitely didn't want to be... couldn't be.

He didn't know how long he'd been out on the balcony, wallowing in a pit of self pity before he heard Sam calling him over the radio. An irrational part of his brain wanted to rip the ear piece out and toss it into the deep waters below. He'd have done it, too, if he wasn't absolutely certain he'd be reprimanded for it.

He trudged back to the gate room, dodging the welcoming party – the _welcomed _party too – and tried to control his breathing as he heard murmurs of Teyla's joyous news, of the ceremonies that would have to occur now that the Athosians were back and able to perform them. He wanted to cut off his ears and feed them to Todd. He couldn't handle this anymore.

Loving Nancy had never been this painful.

And yet, when he walked into the briefing room he knew then what real pain was. No form of torture – human or otherwise- could compare to the sight before him. He felt his blood slow down in his veins again, saw his vision narrowing, focussing in on Kanan's hand that was pressed against Teyla's swollen stomach; to the happy smile encompassing Teyla's face. And when she turned to him, her dark eyes meeting his, dimming slightly along with her smile, his heart shattered and he couldn't muster the strength to breathe, let alone reassure her that he was okay.

It was crushing, all of this, crushing the life out of him, grinding his battered heart into tiny pieces of dust.

He couldn't do this.

He turned, faltered slightly when she called his name, and walked away.


End file.
